Control
by r'n'rb
Summary: If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control, in which Damon and Caroline experience what it is to control and what it is to be controlled. Complete!
1. Hiding

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**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: One - Hiding

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

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She doesn't let him see her cry.

It could be a pride thing, but she doubts it. Somewhere between bending to his will and jumping into bed with him faster than he can ask or spending the mornings with a gallon of cover up, dressing like her grandma to cover the bite marks, she is certain her pride is gone. She is certain it bled out onto her pillow, and she's pretty certain he swallowed it for her.

It's not pride that has her face in her dress, huddled in the back corner of her closet, mascara making dark paths down her cheeks. He can't see her here-he left about an hour ago – but lately she can't escape him. He is everywhere, crawling under her skin, peeking out through the bite marks, her bedroom isn't safe, he's touched every surface, touched her on every surface, made her ache, made her scream, made her bleed on her bed, her dresser, her floor, against the door and there are flecks of red as a little reminder- he is everywhere. He hasn't found the closet yet, so it becomes her cocoon and in it when he is gone, and her body is crying out for his touch, she lets the tears roll down her cheeks where not even the memory of him can find her and see her like this.

He doesn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing her break, perhaps it is pride, or perhaps she is still holding onto the notion that he will grow to love her for more than the taste of her blood and the easiness of her sex.

It's not that she wants an easy love either, some part of her wants him to ache as she has, wants him to be completely and utterly consumed with her so much that it hurts. Some part her wants him to hurt, badly. She doesn't want the Elena and Stephen route, easy and beautiful and boring, and what stings the most is that she _knows _that it wouldn't be, she _knows_ that Damon will never be boring and easy but part of her recognizes that it shouldn't be this hard either.

Her cheerleader outfit hangs close to her head and mocks her, like some twisted memory of a confidant girl who chewed through boys more than she bothered to chew her own food. This voracious, confidant girl is becoming scarily similar "post-parents-death" Elena and this pisses her off because she is not boring, she is not pathetic, and she is not this easy girl who lets a boy control her.

What scares her more is that she can't go back.

Those boys, easy, inexperienced – boring and infantile, she knows that each clumsy kiss will have her begging at Damon's door because he is smooth, because he is older and smarter and cruel and condescending and most of all he is _dangerous_ and somewhere along the way she became a junkie for his drug. She had been controlling; she had been meticulous, manipulative and bored as fuck. He is dangerous, he is cruel and condescending and he is tearing away at her slowly, she doesn't want it to stop, even if it kills her.

He knows this, she's sure of it, but she can't- she _won't_ give him the satisfaction of showing him how much she needs him. She will not be _that_ girl, and even if she is, even if that girl is huddled up and shaking in the dark, she won't let him see it.

Maybe it _is_ a pride thing, maybe pride is sitting in front of the mirror wiping off and reapplying, stripping down, buttoning up.

And when he comes back later on that night, maybe pride is feigning indifference when he asks "did you miss me?" a careless shrug, a smirk, toss of her hair and a "maybe".

Maybe pride is holding on to the last bits of control, her teeth again his skin, his sigh, his moan.

And then he kisses her neck with something close to tenderness and she crumbles.

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Soooooo there have been quite a few of these damon/caroline drabbles popping up, so this chapter might not be anything too original however there is something really fascinating about Damons character and I'm really looking forward to exploring it. And as for Caroline, there is nothing more fun to write than a girl who is at the top of the social food chain and seemingly in control.

There will be more chapters popping up ( sporadically); I'm incredibly inconsistent in my style of writing and I like to play around with it each chapter.

Anyways enough rambling.

Hope you liked it. And if so, if not, review! =)

-A


	2. Seriously, Fine

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Two - **Fine, seriously** (Fucked up Insecure Neurotic and Emotional)** fine.**

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

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By the time she storms in her front door she is really freaking pissed off. She tosses her coat onto a chair and angrily chucks her purse to the floor – part of her hopes her phone breaks because if she gets one more concerned text from Bonnie or another ten million missed ( read : ignored ) calls from Elena and her mother, she will probably have to scream. Loudly.

This is getting ridiculous.

Seriously, she is _fine_: Fine, fine, fine, perfectly fucking fine. And today it seems she has had to justify just how _fine_ she really is more than she can begin to count.

Elena may seem indifferent to the world in a my-parents-died-nothing-else-matters-anymore-way, but apparently she has latched on to this (i.e. a perfectly _private_ matter between Damon and herself) and won't let go.

One tiny bite mark, seriously, it could have been an intense hickey. She hadn't even witnessed the ones lower down thank god, or else she probably would have had the entire police force on her case. One tiny bite mark and suddenly she has become this abused woman and suddenly Elena has decided to turn her into a personal healing project. Not only that but Elena has decided to sic Stephen on her too, this perfect boring, haven't-even-had-sex-yet couple is now watching her every move – oh, goody.

Damon has made no effort to contact her these past few days and she has no doubt that Stephen is behind that.

She sighs angrily as she steps in front of her mirror, judging her reflection with a clinically precise eye.

Her reflection smirks back at her. See? Fine. Flawless makeup, perfect hair, perfect skin, flawless figure and while she's at it, a killer outfit to boot. Okay, so her skin is paler than usual, hello, that's why bronzer was invented. So what if she is thinner than last week? Cheerleader mentality is true, you can _never_ be too thin- seriously, and so what if she is sick of wearing that same old scarf? She needs a reason to shop for new accessories anyway.

She _knows_ she looks better than half of this damn town, she _knows_ she looks good enough to turn all those horny high school boys on; and she's pretty sure she looks good enough to keep Elena off her fucking back.

But she doesn't look fine.

Flawless makeup, perfect hair, perfect skin, flawless figure, empty eyes, cold smile.

She doesn't look fine at all.

But so what?

Nothing has changed, she is not some battered woman who doesn't know how to leave her man, she already knows he's going to kill her – or at least that's what he says, but really, she _doubts_ he could get by without a regular serving of cheerleader blood and sex with someone of her caliber. Or at least that's what she tells herself – sleep easier right?

She is fine….ish

She's fine.

No, actually, she is _pissed_. And frustrated because now she is either spending her days defending her health to everyone or defending the last shreds of control she has left with Damon. She is_ not_ that clingy dependant girl, she _can't _be, she makes fun of those girls and she steals their boyfriends just to show those babies what happens in the real world. She can't be that girl.

So Damon hasn't called, let alone come over in three days, so her insides are churning with worry and need, she can't acknowledge it, she can't recognize the feeling of dependency , she _refuses_ to, just as she refuses to spare more than a glance at the cuts and bruises on her body – she is _not that girl_.

And besides, on a practical level, their relationship is without definition. Technically she hasn't cheated on him, but if they aren't …..official it's not cheating anyway. She has no clue what he has done; she hopes he isn't sleeping around -if only because she wants to believe she has enough draw to hold him- and in a weird, fucked up way, she doesn't want him sucking blood from anyone else either. There is something oddly _intimate_ the way he drinks something from her that is so _vital_, so necessary for her survival. Or maybe she is reading way too freaking much into it. Still, somewhere deep, _deep_ down she hopes that she is more than just a personal blood-bank. Whatever.

She rolls her eyes at herself. Stop acting like a love-sick loser. Stop acting like a loser and stop acting like _that_ girl, because she sure as hell is _not_ that girl

At least not today.

Today she wants action, today she wants to forget the fact she has a sickeningly whipped team of babysitters, and a mom who is protective enough to monitor the websites she visits and the shows she watches. Today she wants to forget about the scarf, about his face, and his lips, and_ his teeth on her neck_. Today she wants to prove to them, to her mom, to him… to herself that she is perfectly freaking fine, in fact, she is stellar and most importantly she is in control. What she needs is to get _drunk_. She needs a drink and she needs a boy who doesn't care about the taste of her blood after a few vodka coolers. She needs to prove this to herself.

Fifteen minutes finds her outfit sluttier and tighter than ever, twenty has her hair sparkling and long. Another ten and she has drawn on a new face, less pale, more man-eater. Forty-five minutes total and she knows she looks hot, forty five minutes total and her heels click with a slightly maniacal confidence. Foot on gas, radio loud, speeding down the highway getting the hell out of town. Next stop: Archland University. Destination: college boys – she always preferred a challenge- oh she is more than just_ fine_ today, and she is going to prove it.

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hey,

First off thank you **SO** (1000000 X )much for all those reviews. Truly truly it made my life, I was not expecting such a great response =)

Secondly, I swear Damon is a main character in this story, he's just hidden at the moment - that said, he will be out to play in the next chapter. And I definitely want to do a chapter from his point of view because I think he will be really interesting character to explore, not to mention hot.

So Caroline comes off more than a little self centered in this chapter, and I mean she _is _a self centered person to some extent but I was thinking more along the lines of being so caught up in your own world that when people are trying to help, you don't actually see it as help, just as annoying. You know? I hope I'm making sense haha.

Anyways I would love to hear any reviews you have.

Merci


	3. Boredom is a Catalyst for Danger

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**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Three- Boredom is a Catalyst for Danger

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

* * *

His brother and Elena are laughing in the kitchen together. Stefan is cutting vegetables, stopping occasionally to touch her check, her hair, her lips – it makes his own smile grow to see his brother slip up more than once, to witness his brother pull away from a kiss quickly and hide his face until the bloodlust has drained from his eyes- idiot, no wonder they haven't had sex yet.

It sort of irritates him just _how much_ Elena looks Katherine – it's not even a matter of resembling slightly, or the same eyes, or the same hair, or the same smile or whatever. She is a carbon fucking copy.

She laughs and tosses her hair the same way Katherine used to; she holds her head the same way. She smiles like her, he wouldn't doubt that she kisses just like her too and that thought makes him a little sick and a little curious all at once.

_Of course_ he is drawn to her, it's _impossible_ not to be. When someone is a living breathing clone of the love/the hate of his life, the notion of passing by and _not_ being the slightest bit startled is ridiculous.

So yeah, he _gets_ why Stefan is staying here- he's here for the same reason- but unlike his idealistic brother he is not going to make an idiot of himself and fawn over Elena like some devoted puppy with some serious blood complexes. Unlike his romantic brother, he is more _controlled_ in his gestures, in his actions, he may seem reckless but he always keeps his own motivation in mind: there is something deeper at work, there has to be – for a girl to be so like her, absolutely identical in appearance, in the same town a century later- and even if there isn't, even if this is all some big genetic coincidence, well he can't say he is bored, Mystic Falls is proving to be as entertaining as ever.

Once or twice Elena gets this look in her eye, part naïve, part curious, part concerned, like she wants to ask something but is too scared to hear the answer. He whispers it outside the window, although neither Stefan nor Elena can hear. "_Vampire, darling, vampire."_

She is the same down to the cracks in her fingernails, but this 21st century Katherine clone has not garnered the same level of passion he held for the 20th century original. Stefan naturally, has fallen head over heels but he always thought a little too much with his heart and never quite enough with his head (or his teeth, but that's another matter).

He _is_ interested in her all right, and make no mistake he will be keeping an eye on her just as much, if not more so than Stefan.

But he is not _attracted_ to her the same way- she's hot, this Katherine lookalike but her voice doesn't tug his veins into painful knots, doesn't bend his body till he looses control – perhaps because Elena seems to be a genuinely decent, albeit bland, person with no apparent ulterior motive.

And therein lies the problem, thus far this 2.0 girl has nothing to hold him:

He has always valued an equal and he has always admired anyone with the guts to play less than fair. Katherine 1.0 was manipulative, was charming, was _selfish _– he understood her, and he could play against her hand. Stefan just wanted to fix, to coddle and to hold her and luckily it seems, Elena is long due for some holding, but that's Stefan's forte ( read : problem) , not his.

She's too nice this girl, but he's holding out hope; she can't look _that much_ like her and not have _some whisper_ of the original buried deep (deep) down in her heart. He holds out hope that she is going to crack a little, he holds out hope that Stefan cracks more than a little. This little town positively _pulses_ with secrets and if only for entertainments sake (read: revenge), he is determined to reveal them all.

He leaps away from the window; he can only watch his brother fawn over her for so long before he wants to vomit. And also the cutesy, cutesy routine gets old a little quickly – call him a fool but he's always _hungered_ for a little passion, a little adventure. Live fast, die young – only you know, he gets to skip out on the whole dying part.

It's dark out and he's bored; he's kicking himself for having set up the creature as the culprit so soon, he's sure he could have gotten at least another month out of the wilderness attacks before it became really risky.

He's hungry and he's itching to do _something,_ anything to stir up a little trouble but he knows he has to wait and since patience is a virtue, he's pretty much ignored it his whole life, and this makes him feel wound up and agitated. But this requires patience, this requires pausing to think, this requires waiting it out in a small town and letting the secrets, the suspicion, the tension mount and percolate until the right moment and then he can pull the switch on his brother and _move on…_ finally.

Part of him is tempted to grow a little mustache, because at the moment he feels a little too similar to some calculated, transparent vaudeville villain planning to tie the girl up to the train tracks.

And that reminds him … Caroline. She's predictable, she's selfish, and so far seems blatantly devoted to her high school cheerleader cliché, but he always gives credit where credit is due, and she is _more than a little talented_ at alleviating his boredom- not to mention feeding his hunger, however, she is all but unaware of that aspect.

He enters her room swiftly and she _entertains_ him till the sky bleeds red dawn and those fearful nightlights are extinguished.

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Damon is harder to get into than I imagined, I'm not 100% pleased with this but I rarely am. I think I idealize his character a little too much ( which may or may not have anything to do with the hhhhot actor portraying him) so I'm going to try and separate that as the story continues.

The timeline in this story isn't consistantly chronological- but hopefully it will make sense as more chapters are posted.

I'm having lot's of fun writing this, and even more fun hearing your reviews and your thoughts. If my depiction of Katherine is a little off it's only because I didn't get very far at all in the first book. ( not out of disinterest more out of woah this needed to go back to the library like a month ago)

Thanks so much for reading, please review

-merci


	4. Cause He Was Just Too Easy and Too Nice

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Four- Because He Was Just Too Easy and Too Nice

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

Opening and Closing Lyrics Used in this song are NOT mine they are the lovely Emily Haines, from the song Knock You Out by Tiesto and Emily Haines. 

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_"Somebody to take you out  
Somebody to show you how  
Somebody to train you  
Somebody to love  
But wait..._

_Is it still love you want  
Somebody to put you down  
Somebody to smack you 'round  
Somebody to love  
But wait..."_

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She doesn't usually drink, and on the rare occasion of if and when she does she _never_ drinks this much. She hung out with those kids, she went to those parties, she _threw_ those parties herself, she had sips in between tight-lipped smiles but she never really drank. It's a control thing maybe, but she's never bothered to look that deeply into it. All those other girls, those party girls, she dances circles around them, she goes to more parties than them and sleeps with more boys- or rather, better looking boys- than them. The only thing she doesn't do is stumble into a room to pass out, the only thing she doesn't do is puke her guts out on the lawn after making out with a guy in the bushes. The only thing she doesn't do is make a fool of herself. She never saw a reason to throw away her calculated (and luckily genetically blessed) rise to the top of the social food chain for one drunken moment, and she has seen many girls do it, and she has laughed at those girls and sent them in tears to hang with other cast outs and failures. Circle of life right? She's always thought herself one step ahead of the game, or maybe she knows she doesn't have the backbone to handle the embarrassment. "Police chiefs daughter caught publically intoxicated", she just couldn't do it. Not that she would ever admit that to herself.

Tonight however seems have been designed for exceptions, and tonight she is the exception. These college boys don't know her name, and considering her outfit she doubts they know her face either, but at this point she doesn't really care. At this point she is drunk. Wasted, toasted, hammered, flat out fucking drunk. At this point she can barely control her words, let alone her limbs and in this moment in time she _loves_ it. She loves every shiny can; she loves the throb of the bass in her chest and the pulse of the music in her veins. She loves the colorful shots and the broken glass in the kitchen and the cigarette butts lying listless and used by the door. Right now she loves Adam and his plaid shirt and the guitar in the corner. Thirty minutes ago she loved Troy and she's pretty sure he loved her back, but apparently his girlfriend loved him too. But none of that matters because Adam and his blond hair and his green eyes framed with unfairly long eyelashes -"they belong on a girl" she's told him several times already, hands stroking his face- none of this matters because Adam has promised a private concert in his bedroom. Right now Adam is a big of a star as she wants him to be, and right now she can pretend to be his biggest fan without realizing she's pretending.

She is giggling and the room is spinning and Adam is having a hard time carrying her and the guitar, but somehow he manages and the three of them tumble to the ground and she giggles some more. Some part of her in the back of her mind tries to remind her not to be this idiot lush, some part is frantically trying to remind her of Damon, who probably is at her house right now, looking at an empty room. But she just can't bring her self to care; she drank that uptight conscience part away playing some game with cards and a shit-mix of vodka, rum and something tasty and green.

Adam is leaning against the bed, his plaid shirt open, guitar in his hands and singing. If she were sober, she probably would have pointed out- none to kindly- that he should seriously stick to strumming and leave the singing out all together. But right now she can't stop grinning uncontrollably, the ceiling is spinning and the carpet is soft and he's singing some silly romantic song that is making her giggle. And then suddenly that isn't enough, lately high school, her high school friends, her cheerleading, her hair, her life just isn't exciting enough, isn't wild and dangerous enough. She wants to _do_ something, he is playing too slowly and she wants something fast, she wants the lights to blur like they did downstairs, she wants her heart to race and she knows the only guy who can make it race is Damon but she wants to prove he is not alone. She wants to prove that other boys can be exciting, she wants to prove that she can find exciting on her own, and right now she should be drunk enough that everything is exciting and unpredictable, and it _is_…but just not enough.

This itchy hungry part of her is restless and wasted, so she does what she does best and takes action: Adam stops playing when her bra hits his face.

Adam is a _good_ kisser, his chest is smooth and hard underneath the long-gone plaid shirt, his hands are nimble and just a little callused and rough in the right places. He is good and he is nice and he continues to sing that silly romantic song when his lips are free of her skin. But he is_ only_ good, and she is bored as fuck. He is too easy to please and his song is annoying her, so she kisses her way down his stomach and undoes his jeans with her teeth. She can't help but feel disappointed as he shudders and moans and forgets how to speak- and she can't help but feel let down when she looks up at him and he is completely under her spell without much effort at all.

Afterward he is panting and smiling and promising to return the favour, and she is _trying _to feel enticed but can't quite sum up the enthusiasm she _so wanted_ to have. She leaves him on the bed to freshen up, he tells her not to take long and she doesn't bother answering. Under the harsh lightening of dirty bathroom she glares at her reflection and wonders if _this_ is what a loser looks like, because so far it seems like Damon is winning. Damon is winning at a game he isn't really bothering to play. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glazed, but she feels remarkably sober, and that giggling silly girl from moments before seems like a stranger.

Suddenly, she just wants to go home; suddenly, she _doesn't care_ about proving anything because losing to Damon is exciting and twisted. Besides, the very fact that she went here tonight, the fact that she sought out a guy and made him loose control should mean _something_, should mean that somewhere inside she still is a tenacious fighter, should mean that he isn't holding her helpless just yet. And even if he is, at least it's never boring.

She twists the facet and lets the water run frigid before splashing it on her face, her hands pressed against her cold pink cheeks, she counts to ten and then turns around and opens the door.

Adams guitar is lying in pieces and there is blood on the floor, Adam is nowhere to be found.

Damon is sitting calmly on the bed, not smiling, not frowning, just sitting and looking at her.

She feels a rush that is more intoxicating than every drink she's every had tonight and any other night put together; relived and enthralled and _excited_. She fights to control her reaction and pull herself back; twisting her lips she aims for a half smile.

"Jealous, much?"

At this Damon scoffs incredulously and gets off the bed looking anything but impressed. She steels herself and whatever she is feeling on the inside, she is not going to let it bleed through for him to see.

He walks toward her and she stiffens, half frightened but _never _bored.

She closes her eyes and waits for his teeth on her neck, wanting it and hating herself for it.

Instead he grabs her hand and pulls her toward him. This scares her more than anything he has ever done. His arm around her waist, his hand on her elbow, she doesn't even _think_ to resist. He is walking them to the door and down the stairs and past all the people dancing and drinking and stumbling into each other. Outside, the cold air seems to bring her some sense and she pulls away.

"_What _are you doing?"

He holds out his hand palm up and looks irritated, almost like a parent scolding and unruly child. He sighs.

"Give me your keys, I'm taking you home"

Part of her wants to say no if only to fake a bit of resistance, but she is tired so she hands the keys over without looking at his face and gets in the passenger seat without a fuss. It's only as they're speeding frantically down the highway that she wonders how he got there if he's using her car to get back. She knows better than to voice it, and she doesn't really want to ruin the mystery, because she can think back to this when things get really rough, and she can twist it into some romantic gesture.

She looks at him and he stares straight at the road.

"So, should I be expecting a chaperon every time I go out now?"

He glances at her, with a tired smirk.

"Do I _really_ seem like that type Caroline?"

She bites her lip and doesn't take her eyes off his profile.

"Then why did you come?"

He keeps his eyes on the road, and his face as smooth as a sheet of glass.

"Because I was hungry…and right now, you're my favorite snack"

She forces herself not to make anything of his words, forces herself not to feel just a little bit _privileged_ like she just received some twisted compliment.

Instead she looks at him; instead she looks at the lines on his face, looks at the curve of his lip, the slope of his nose, the angle of his brow and his lashes which curl enough to graze his skin.

She looks at him and he doesn't take his eyes of the road.

* * *

_"High hopes  
High hopes  
She got high hopes"

* * *

_

_I really hope there is more Caroline/Damon on the show - from the looks of it there wont be for a while, which really sucks. I adore the dynamic between the two of them, there is so much "spark". That said, drunken Damon with Viki last episode was hhhhot. Seriously, haha I wish he got a scene like that with Caroline. _

_She might seem a little out of character this chapter, and I'm having a lot of trouble with Damon because there is such a fine line between him being a total ass and too much of a redeemable sap. _But it was fun to write.

_Anyways thanks so so much for reading, it would be amazing if you could drop a small review, it would mean the world._

_-Merci  
_

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	5. Because If He Didn't Notice It

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**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Five- Because If He Didn't Notice It, Someone Else Would

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

* * *

Impulsive and irritable as he may be one thing that cannot be said about Damon Salvatore is that he is unobservant. He_ notices_ things. The way she closes off and shuts down when anyone, no matter how unintentionally, mentions her mom. The boy in the corner staring, the way he clenches his hands whenever she walks past. The waitress who takes a calming breath before approaching the next customer with a pasted on smile that looks real enough to fool anyone but the mirror. The swallow of a pill, the shake of the hand, the twitch of an eye, the bite of a lip, and the swift apology where the two gazes never quite meet. He notices it all.

He notices these things and always, he tucks them away for future reference – one never knows it at time, but her favorite colour, his favorite drink, that secret hiding place, that family heirloom- those little details make all the difference when push comes to shove, and he _always_ pushes for the top.

In fact he would go as far as saying, without any pretense of false modesty –please…he recognizes feigned humility with practiced ease- that he notices _everything. _And _that _is why he prevails when other people fail.

Before he was prone to bloodlust and severe allergies to the sun, before the sharp fangs and the shaper senses, he was still able to see what others could not. A small child, he caught the details others brushed over like clumsy hands over an etched surface, he saw to it that his deft fingers caught _every bump_, every time. He saw the hesitation behind every decision and those hidden ulterior motives propelling every action. Simply put, he saw what everyone else never saw, or never wanted to see.

He notices these things and always, he tucks them away for future reference.

Stefan was always too clouded by his emotions, too caught up in his own world of right and wrong and love and destiny and propriety, and honor to notice the little hints, those little signals that were more subtle and more meaningful than any grand act of fate. Take Katherine for instance, that girl had _wanted _to be chased; she had wanted to be pursued _aggressively_ from the get-go. He doesn't doubt she loved Stefan more- they were star crossed, meant to be blah, blah, blah- too bad his romantic brother was half blind. His simple, kind hearted sap of a brother never noticed her eyes after a chaste kiss, or her tight smile as he courted her in his socially acceptable, romantic by the freaking book way.

The girl had wanted passion and aggression – quite simply she had wanted sex. He had noticed that, he had understood that- it wasn't even that he was _trying_ to steal her at the time; he was simply filling the holes that Stefan hadn't been aware of. He noticed these things.

So maybe he is heartless, and callous, so maybe he is this monstrous being that Elena paints him out to be, so maybe he is this careless animal that Stefan pitifully tries to cage at every moment. He's not an idiot, of course he hears the things whispered behind his back, the ideas that Stefan plants in her head, the warnings that the pair of them fruitlessly try to give Caroline. Ha!

What they don't notice is that he _does_.

He notices these things and always, he tucks them away for future reference.

What they don't notice is that he sees the way Stefan is both ashamed and intrigued by his worship of this Katherine 2.0, what Stefan refuses to acknowledge _lingers_ in the furrow of his brow and the twitch of his cold finger. What they don't notice is the way he can tell Elena is at once repulsed and intrigued by _both_ of the brothers, he notices her large eyes and the worry reflected in them, but mostly he notices the spark of interest, but mostly he notices the wheels beginning to turn behind her face, but mostly he notices that sometimes she looks past Stefan to him, without even realizing it herself.

It's predictable, it's pathetic and he sees it all without even trying. Can he be blamed for wanting some fun, _for wanting some chaos_ and unpredictability in this world where he can anticipate every move?

His actions are well deserved - and he knows exactly how each person will try and clean up his messes, and honestly, he _could_ clean it up in a _second_ if he were to be bothered. But he isn't and he doesn't. He's seen enough to know that one generation of beautiful, well behaved loving people won't change the world, he's seen enough to be wary of every smile and kind gesture, he's seen enough to know that _everyone_ is selfish and the only ones who can be trusted are the ones who don't try to hide their nature behind some romanticized façade. Katherine was manipulative and selfish but she never tried to hide it, and he relished that while Stefan tried to look past it. This new Katherine, his brother, this modernized town tries too hard to be good, and apparently every person is under the impression that their actions are justified because they were _trying to do the right thing, _he calls bullshit, he calls liar and he condemns this town to drown in its own martyrsim*.

It's not all bad, he has his fun, these people are anything but boring and they always seem to offer themselves up as playthings. Besides, occasionally he finds those who aren't as deluded, who aren't caught up in right and wrong but rather in pursuit and catch. Vikki has the right idea but she's never been anything but a _slave_ to addiction, Caroline seems tied to a life of fitting the ideal but occasionally he sees a _glimmer of something_ behind her eyes, and although he doesn't think of it much, he's put off killing her to find out what it is, and Elena, dear, dear Elena, he is still waiting for this doppelganger to show some _true _colours, he is still waiting for Stefan to choke on his new obsession.

He notices these things and _always_, he tucks them away for future reference.

She is looking pale tonight, pale and thin. Her cheeks are a little too tight, a little too cold to the touch. But she is smiling and beneath her smile he can see she honestly is at war with herself, and he can see she is honestly fighting for him. He thinks it's pathetic really, but he indulges her vampire fantasy until she promises to burn her Twilight novels, because sparkling virgin Edward can't make her scream again, and again, and again.

She pleasures him, and she kisses him with those butterfly soft kisses he usually brushes off but she is looking frail tonight so he lets it slide and doesn't bite in until she has caught her breath.

She is looking pale tonight. A little less vibrant, a little less alive.

He notices these things and _always_, he tucks them away for future reference.

* * *

* Made up word but it _should _exist

Hey, sorry about the delay, have been crazy busy. Am on the fence about this chapter, Damon is much trickier to write - because as much as I want him to be a good guy somewhere deep inside, he has way to much crap going on to be that guy just yet.

I really hope they get some more Caroline/Damon scenes on the show, the chemistry is what got me hooked in the first place.

reviews would be amazing, and perhaps any advice on Damon's character. But any review would be appreciated.

-Merci

* * *


	6. Prince Charming Never Quite Cut It

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Six-Prince Charming Never Quite Cut It

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

* * *

It happened at 5am. And she couldn't for the life of her stop it.

She had been on the verge of sleep, her eyes closed, her lips relaxed and her hands wrapped around his arm. She felt strange, she thinks now that she had been feeling strange all day. Sort of foggy, and happy and dazed and nervous and something she can't for the life of her put a name to. It wasn't as if she had paid it much attention, she has been losing a lot of blood lately, she hasn't slept much and she never really bothers to sit down for dinner with her mom anymore. No blood, no food, no sleep and lot's of coffee; she likes to think of it has the college kid diet – you know, if every college kid had a vampire feeding on them at regular intervals.

The feeling made sense, sort of. But somehow, lying in bed after god knows how many hours spent in bed with Damon, it grew stronger and stronger.

He had been oddly attentive too; a little softer and little gentler- not that she is reading into it or anything.

But at 5 am. On the brink of sleep, her arms on him, her mind on him, her half-closed eyes on him, she recognizes the feeling. She feels the name beneath her lips and freaks the fuck out.

Five minutes of trying to quietly hyperventilate without him noticing and looking at her with those stupidly knowing eyes of his. Her heart rate skyrockets. Six minutes with an anchor bolted to her chest, her mantra is breath and do nothing, just breath and don't move a muscle.

She can feel the panic rising in her chest and he cannot see this, he cannot see her like this. This situation between them is doomed and she knows if he finds out she feels this way he'll end it right now.

There were never any spoken rules to their tryst but he had handed her invisible chains at the beginning – don't tell anyone, don't show the bite marks, don't make this into anything more than it is; don't expect him to care – and willingly or unwillingly she had tied them around herself, and now she can't, wont get out. She is tied and she doesn't want him to let her out. She can't have that; she can't let him see her like this.

She needs to get out of the bed; she needs to get out of the house.

With a silence she didn't know she possessed she slips out of bed, sneaks past her door, down the stairs, always avoiding the left side which creaks more and she slides out the door.

Then she runs.

* * *

When she was five she fell in love with Prince Charming from Snow White. She liked his dark hair; she liked his smile and his noble steed. She liked his voice when he spoke and she loved it when he sang. Her mom had given her the video for her birthday and she must have watched it like sixty times that year. She told her parents that she liked the cute animals and little Dopey, she told her parents she liked the singing and the pies, she told her parents she liked Snow White's pretty dark hair and pretty blue eyes.

Her mom told her she couldn't watch TV before bedtime, go read a book instead. Her dad had let her watch it when her mom was working a nightshift, which luckily was most of the time.

In all honesty she thought Snow White was a dumb girl. In all honesty she never could grasp the fact that she was trusting enough to let the creepy old lady inside, she never could fathom going out to pick flowers while a knife wielding hunter watched over. She never really like Snow White because everything she said was too naive and giggly in that breathy voice of hers. She would have done differently had she been in her shoes.

But she did adore the movie.

What she really loved about it was that Prince Charming loved Snow White, like truly, truly loved her from first sight. He loved her even though she was too trusting and too silly and flighty. Whenever she dreamed the movie in her head, she would be a blond Snow White, and she would let the witch put her too sleep too but only because she knew Prince Charming was coming to love her, flaws and all.

* * *

She drives through town in a panic, pulling over twice because her hands are shaking too much to change the station and turn the wheel at the same time. She keeps her mind off herself by changing it by the second. Where to go. Where to go. Bonnie's? No. Bonnie is at her grandma's house and she only knows her dad's address…besides, Bonnie has been way too weird lately and it's not like she would want to understand her and Damon in the slightest. Elena's is out of the question, she's only just stopped asking about the bite marks, and that's because she thinks it's over with Damon.

She's running through her friends in her head, picking them off one by one because they aren't her friends, because the cheerleading squad only listens cause she's popular, and she's only popular cause she never bothered to listen to anyone else, and her real friends want it over with Damon, and everyone else she knows is afraid of her, afraid of her mom. She doesn't doubt that some of them could care less about who she is, as long as she is blonde and toned and knows how to use a pushup bra. They're all afraid to loose their place in the high school monarchy and she's familiar enough with the social food chain to know that an injured shark in a weak moment doesn't go to a hungry piranha for comfort.

She wonders if this should make her feel alone. But she's always known this, and tonight is no different than any other.

But it is, but she is different tonight and she's not in control of herself right now.

And that scares her more than anything else in the world.

* * *

When she was nine she fell in love with Leonardo DiCaprio, well, more specifically she fell in love with Jack Dawson from Titanic. She had been home sick the first time she watched it, it was playing on a woman's television network and all the commercials featured beauty products; she thought he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. From the moment she laid eyes on him- playing cards and drinking with that careless infectious smile- she was smitten.

It was her favorite movie for the next two years and she gushed about his eyes and his third-class charm, and his artistic abilities.

She was in love with Jack Dawson, her dad joked that he was too and it wasn't until later that it struck her as odd, because at the time it didn't make sense not to love him. And even though she totally thought nudity was gross at that age, she never once closed her eyes, even when her mom told her to during the sex scene.

She wasn't the biggest fan of Rose; she thought she took the easy way out of everything and somehow she thinks his life could have been saved if she had just come clean about the two of them from the get-go. But she did like her red hair, and she had loved the necklace, which is why she hated it when Rose threw it away at the end.

What she really loved about Jack was that he was the most unlikely savior, and yet he was always saving Rose. What she really loved about him was his careless ability to go from dabbling with those in a less than honest lifestyle to charming the pants off of high-society misters and madams. What she really loved about him was how deeply he cared for this girl who was struggling to go on. What she really loved about him was the smile that never left his face, no matter how bad things got. What she really loved was his charming devotion; he loved her enough to die for her.

When she imagined herself on the boat, she spends every waking hour with him, and when the iceberg hits, she moves over half an inch and shares the door with him. When she dreams her life with Jack, they live happily ever after with all the money they got from selling the necklace. And whenever she is struggling with those high-society expectations, Jack is there to rescue her and make everything better.

Because those careless charming boys are destined to find beautiful troubled girls and save them again and again. Right?

* * *

She thinks it's stupid to be panicking this much. This has happened before, she has felt her heat race and her skin flush and her tongue tie like this before, but it's never been real, those boys were always trapped behind a screen.

The drive has led her past all those familiar houses, all her familiar haunts, even the forest doesn't call to her. She feels stupid and over analytical right now but she just needs to get away and sort things out.

She thinks of all those other boys, how cold she had been, how carelessly she had stepped on their big hearts and clumsy hands. She thinks of Brandon and her first kiss; she remembers the tentative, wet touch of his mouth and she remembers pressing back hard, because she always wanted more. She thinks of Eric and his self assured smile when he got her bra off, she remembers his blush and his fumbling fingers when she took off her pants – it was never enough. She thinks of Alex, of his blond hair and his smile, she thinks of how perfect they looked together: perfect and boring, just like his sex. She remembers his sad texts and his angry calls after he found out she was testing the waters with his older brother Andrew, and still she wanted more, and still it was never enough.

She thinks she feels regretful; all those snubbed dates and ignored calls. She thinks she feels mean; her cruel smiles, her cool rejections but she can't go there right now; she can't acknowledge the little cloud of irony that's floating over her head. She's fumbling and she's nervous and she's desperate for him, but she cannot admit that, ever.

A sign marks the city limits, and she drives right past it.

* * *

When she was fifteen, she fell in love with Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl. The TV show of course, not the books – he was way too ambiguous and slimy in the books for her to think of him as anything but weird. But in the show, he was bad; he was a cruel womanizing, controlling, alcohol abusing, scheming asshole and she _loved_ him for it.

Elena had pointed out that in real life guys like that were nothing but trouble and guys like that never did fall in love and change the way everyone secretly hopes they do. She had said that she didn't want him to change, that his cruelty was his charm. Elena had laughed and called her ridiculous. But they both agreed that he was hot, so it was all okay.

And hot he was: That self assured smirk of his sent shivers down her spine, those manipulative little games he played, well, she wanted in on them. She wanted that seductive control he had, and she wanted him the way he wanted everything.

She liked the way he went after Blair even though she was dating his best friend. Blair with her preppy hair and preppy tights and little black ballet flats – She annoyed her: Too uptight, too spoiled, but she liked her attitude, she liked that she took what she wanted; it made sense that people admired her. And she loved that it was the bad boy, the dark prince that got her to unravel in the end.

She liked to reinvent her first time in her mind, she's in the back of the limo with Chuck and he's peeling off that Victorian little baby-doll of hers, and she is just as ambitious and blunt as Blair, only she doesn't have a blond complex, because he is running his fingers through her golden hair.

She loves the way the he loves her, and in some way she loves that it's doomed from the start because no one makes deceit, seduction, lying, games and manipulation as sexy as Chuck Bass.

It occurs to her later that loving a bad boy is easy… but getting them to love her back is never as easy as it looks on the television.

* * *

It happened at 5am.

In the 24hour diner on the edge of town she is picking at her fries with listless hands, only the coffee touches her lips and it warms her some.

For whatever reason he hasn't come looking for her. She could placate herself and pretend he's still asleep but she saw a light in her room as she drove away. She could pacify herself with the idea that he is giving her space but she doesn't give herself the luxury tonight; she is here and he is not and she is not going to read into that.

In some way she yearns to be bored again. In some way she wants so badly to be in the back seat of a car with some nice gentle boy, who is being sweet and gentle and loves her more than she likes him. That was nice and safe and boring but right now she feels she could use a little of that.

She needs a little control here, something to stop her from needing him all the time, from wanting him all the time in ways she know he will never be available. She doesn't want him to change and at the same time she needs him too. He can't, she knows this, but she can't help thinking of his half-smile before he kissed her, she can't help thinking that his hands were a little less rough a little more tender tonight, she can't help wondering if he is softening the tiniest bit…But she knows him: He is angry and dark and controlling and somehow she is always willing.

She needs some of her control back – just her self-control, she won't ask for anything else.

The bell at the front of the restaurant rings and she looks up to find him sitting across from her, eating her cold fries and smiling softly. Her heart skips a beat.

She needs a little perspective because most of the time, he is all she sees.

She closes her eyes and opens them again, the seat across is empty and a well worn stranger makes his way to the counter and orders a coffee. She is sitting alone in the early hours of the morning, with untouched food and an aching in her chest.

She needs to not be in love with him.

* * *

Sorry it took so long for the update. As much as I want to support this couple, the episode in which he calls her useless etc... kind of threw me and I've been trying to find a way to address in this story - it will probably appear in the next chapter or so.

I'm still on team Caroline/Damon though, (as cute as Caroline and Matt are turning out to be) and i intend to see this story through.

There are probably 1001 areas in the chapter that need editing but as always I am a terribly lazy editor.

please please please please review, it really is what keeps me going.

-Merci


	7. Then Just Jump

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Seven- If The Only Thing You're Running From Is Yourself, Jump

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

* * *

He's restless. Or at least he thinks he is. There's this sort of gnawing feeling in his gut that says don't get too comfortable here, although he had been pretty certain he never would be comfortable here again anyway . But lately he's been all too aware of the routine. And he _hates_ routines; once you pass fifty years of looking like a twenty year old, you do whatever you can to avoid feeling the mind numbing repetition. Back in the nineties he spent an entire year base jumping from famous landmarks, and when he was feeling spectacularly bored he would hire a guide and watch the horror on their face when he "forgot" to open the parachute and got up from the ground without a scratch. Sadly, he can't say the same for the guides but it wasn't like he could let them go having seen him defy death and all, besides extreme sports entailed a risk of death and he was simply seeing out the disclaimer.

All those years passed in peak physical condition trying to out run, out smart and control that numbing sensation masquerading as déjà vu. It's a good thing he had revenge to preoccupy himself with or he probably would have staked himself long ago out of sheer boredom. Base jumping, swimming with sharks with an open vial of blood, cave diving, pissing off the mafia just because, bull riding and forgetting to hold on, heroin and cocaine cocktails in the back alley, tsunami chasing, stolen car racing …Stefan had called it self destructive, but he had seen his straight laced brother emerge from his piles of books on more than one occasion. Living forever, being all but invincible is the most potent form of potential boredom anyone could ever prescribe, and he has spent the latter part of his life avoiding it _at all costs_.

Still lately, this exciting venture into his home town is starting to feel a little too comfortable, a little too familiar. And he _can't_ be settling in, he simply doesn't do that.

Wake up, feed off Caroline, use compulsion if necessary, go home taunt Stefan, pine for Katherine…sort of, observe Elena, seethe about the necklace, take it out on Caroline, rinse repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat. He's not bored per-se, but he's paranoid; every nerve in his body is alert and waiting to feel the first signs of monotony and it's really fucking with his head. He thinks he should be bored, he knows it actually. He's been here too long and not much has happened. He's restless yes, he wants to do something, his nature is impatient and he has spent the last hundred years learning just how much faster instant gratification is. "Why wait?" is his motto, and he's had to control that impulse because his calculating side, the side of him that sees and acts with a meticulous precision needs more time.

Well actually, that side of him needs that _necklace_. Which somehow is in Bonnie's hands and somehow he can't physically remove it from her, but he's working on it. His fingers clench with agitation, this had not been part of the plan at all.

Caroline, in a move he had to give her credit for, had decided to let him know Bonnie had it while they were having sex. The little minx had shown some smarts, letting it slip while his was…preoccupied. Still after he found his teeth gnashing against her skin with little restraint, and in frustration he had thrown her against the wall. And she had lain there, shaking soundlessly while he paced and he fumed and then swallowed his annoyance and picked up that porcelain doll blood bank and tucked her in to bed with a kiss on the cheek. Because you know, he _can_ be sweet sometimes. He erased the memory of his violence from her head, and congratulated her on the bruise; a victory mark from the_ killer_ cheerleading routine the day before.

Still, he needs something to do. This waiting, this calculating and this necklace issue are all eating at his insides and he needs a distraction or _something_. Fuck. It's one-thirty in the afternoon and although time doesn't really mean much to him, even _he_ isn't desperate enough to start drinking; not even the kind of drink that's served at 98.6 degrees.

Stefan _was_ smart about some things and enrolling in school was actually a pretty smart choice: it was something to do; there was fresh blood in every direction and he always did enjoy out-smarting a teacher. Too bad Mystic Falls hasn't developed enough in the last century to open up any sort of post-secondary institution, not that it would be any fun, but it would be something to occupy his wandering mind.

Twenty minutes later finds him rifling through the neighbor's medicine cabinet; he notices that they're both on blood thinners and decides to abstain from ever choosing them as a snack. After so many years one learns to filter out the B negative (too bitter), obesity does not taste as good as a hamburger and those stick thin models always taste like celery cigarette smoke and occasionally ipecac. _Always_ choose type O if it's available, and when he does circle the dinner crowd, he likes to feed on those who feed on lobster, cheesecake, and summer salad, oh, and chocolate too, but only the really dark kind. He rifles through the liquor cabinet as well, swipes the bottle of Baileys and replaces it with a bottle cheap wine. He takes a swig of the whiskey and pockets it for another day. The lady of the house gets out of the shower thirty seconds later; he's already gone and he's snatched her freshly laundered socks while he was at it.

Forty minutes later and apparently Stefan has gotten tired of him leaving post-it notes on everything. Although he was certain his love-blinded brother was in need of the message " She's just a Katherine 2.0". His black eye heals in .03 seconds and he pulls the knife out of his arm without a second glance. The blood stains his sleeve as he leaves the room. "This is John Varvatos, dude. Dick, move"*

Fifty minutes pass and he finds himself parked outside of the high school, feeling strangely like some sexual predator at a playground; he takes his sun glasses off as if to assure himself that he isn't quite there yet. He's been immature today; he's been impulsive and incredibly unproductive and far be it for him to admonish himself for this he still feels the need for more…More something; more excitement, more danger and always more blood.

He gets a kick out of Elena's furrowed brow when he corners her in the hall. The smart, studious girl left him quickly with a " I have to get to class", brushing past him with a preoccupied air. He feels infuriated when she returns to pull Bonnie away from him as he makes yet another failed attempt to get the necklace from her freaky electric shock protective shield. Why _does_ it do that. It tugs at something in his memory but he's distracted before he has the chance to really analyze it.

Caroline loops her arms around his neck when she sees him and flashes him an unsettlingly large smile. The necklace is walking away arm in arm with Elena and his hands clutch Caroline angrily; a little too tightly. She doesn't cry out but he feels her flinch and lets her go abruptly. Somewhere in the back of his head he feels a little guilty but guilt hasn't been something he readily recognizes in a_ long _time.

If she's hurt she doesn't let it show. And with the practiced ease of someone who's learned to let these things slide for years she smiles tightly.

"What are you doing here?"

The necklace and Elena have disappeared around the corner and his agitation seeps through in the clench of his jaw and the tension running through his muscles like a barbed wire pulled through soft skin.

He grabs her hand on impulse and pulls her toward the door. She lets out a squeak but he's already made up his mind and already his footsteps are leading to the car.

She looks secretly thrilled but she stops him outside the car and he wonders, not for the first time, just how much his compulsion will affect her in the long run.

"Damon…what, what are you doing?"

"We're going for a ride" He barely swallows the impulse to say "duh!"

He's already in the driver's seat when he notices that she hasn't gotten in. So the kid has got moxie today, _interesting_... maybe but at this moment her reluctance is just annoying and _clearly _a time waster.

"Get in. I promise it will be fun"

Her teeth gnaw at her lip, and he makes a mental note to get her to do it again later.

"I've got class"

He rolls his eyes. This is not what he needs right now, and despite her protests she clearly wants to go.

His pupil's contract and she is locked in his gaze before he gives it a second thought: .05 seconds later she is in the car and smiling excitedly.

"Hurry up babe, let's go."

He puts his arm around the back of the seat and backs out with the expertise of someone who could drive in his sleep.

"I knew you'd come around"

It's been a while since he's done something crazy, and in his experience it's always more fun when there's a flighty girl screaming bloody-murder beside him.

* * *

She's been trying really hard lately. Not to, you know, _love_ him. But today her heart is screaming fuck that. Today her rules, her sense of self control and apparently her brain have decided to jump ship and her heart is beating faster and harder then ever.

This is what boyfriends do. This is what those charming, loyal and loving boys do to their girlfriends. This isn't him. The last time he picked her up from school he had had his teeth in her throat and his fingers on her skin before they were even out of the parking lot. He doesn't do this. He is _not_ her boyfriend. And it's freaking her out and turning her on all at once.

The entire ride she kept waiting for him to pull over, she kept waiting for his eyes to turn black and his teeth to pierce her skin. Every time he looked her direction, every movement he made, however slight, had her jumping and spazing out until halfway to the city limits he had asked if she was okay. She all but fainted at that.

Whatever little resolve she had been saving to herself was broken the moment she fiddled with the radio and he didn't change the song. Whatever little self control she was trying to cling to imploded when he grabbed her hand before they jumped.

She is kicking herself now, because the entire afternoon she had been paranoid and confused and she had analyzed every one of his moves with the eye of a doctor looking for a bad diagnosis. Skydiving? She had always wanted to go skydiving, ever since it became on of her dad's broken promises. But she had spent the duration of the fall staring at his back and waiting for him to do _something_ …She had barely noticed that the ground was 13,000 feet below. If she could have let go it would have been one of the perfect, impulsive romantic afternoons…well aside from him feeding on her in mid air. Sure, he had been agitated and restless for the majority of the time -on the plane ride up his leg was shaking at a frantic pace, his hands wandered in every direction and he kept muttering something about...witches?- but all the same it was sort of romantic and she knows he doesn't do that.

When they were on the ground he had voiced his surprise that she hadn't screamed when he didn't open his parachute. She didn't bother mentioning she had been too fixated on his actions to notice they were in the air.

She _doesn't want to _read into this; doesn't want to make anything of his impulsive adventure, of his tolerance and his kisses and his hands on her skin. But she's _only human_ and as much as she is trying to keep her head afloat, part of her can't help but love it when he pulls her under; some masochistic part of her is just waiting to drown. He is dark and twisty and angry and impatient and apparently she doesn't care about self preservation, or what her skin looks like covered in bite marks: Apparently now all she wants to do is smooth the lines on his forehead, apparently now all she wants to do kiss the frown off his mouth and melt into him forever and ever and _ever_.

When he acts like this she _can't help_ but imagine this that means more than it is. She can't help but wonder that if this- her sleepless nights, her bruised skin, constant dizzy headache; her sheer dependence on him- could turn into something more.

When he acts like this, even for a second, she can't help but entertain ideas of relationships and soft kisses and all the things she thought she used to hate.

She closes her eyes and leans into his chest. She hasn't slept more then four hours this week but her heart is racing and she feels wide awake. She wonders if her heartbeat is loud enough to wake him.

She is seriously pathetic. And she is _seriously_ in love with him, and that may just be the death of her.

* * *

* direct quote( in a slightly different context) from the show.

Imagine all the crazy shenanigans you could get into if you lived that long- I can see Damon partying it up Woodstock, and at Studio 54 and shooting heroin with all the grunge rockers in Seattle. I was gonna write a bit about his sordid past in that light but extreme sports sort of fit the theme for this chapter, and imagine all the crazy activities your could get up to if you're invincible and impulsive!!!! hmmm...maybe a Salvatores through the ages is needed haha!

Damon is so .....evil at times that it really is hard to get to his other sides. So I went back to the episode where he's dancing with Viki and took my ques from there - especially the part where he talks about boredom being a side effect of Vampirism.

Hope you like this chapter ( despite, I'm sure. the numerous grammar errors). I've figured out where I want to go with this now and I really needed that because I have definitely been losing steam as of late.

Thank you so much for sticking with this so far and I would greatly appreciate any reviews!!!!!!!!!!!

-Merci


	8. The Best laid Plans of Mice and Men

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Eight - " The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men Often Go Awry"

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

**Notes**: Title is from a Robert Burns poem.

* * *

He spends the first hour of the party medicating his anger with a bottle of whiskey. He makes plans. He likes making plans and he loves following his plans through. His plans work: his plans are thought out, his plans always include an element of risk but he always follows through with them and his plans _always_ work.

This whole week has been fucking with his plans. This whole week has been fucking with his head. He's been spending way too much time with Caroline, if only because it's easy, if only because he gets fed and bedded in one go, if only because, in all her airheaded devotion, she is a welcome distraction. But he's been _too_ distracted and now his plans have grown holes and now his plans are too risky and too impossible.

He needs that necklace. And this Bonnie bitch has it. He despises the witch- he's pretty certain she is one- and he was pretty certain she should have been easy to deal with. But she has the necklace. She was not supposed to have it. Caroline was not supposed to give it to her. He should not have kept it at her house in the first place, but it's not like he could have risked Stefan seeing it.

He texts Caroline a question but spots his answer a moment after he's pressed the send button.

The necklace is seated across the room with a knowing look on her face and an army of annoying friends by her side.

The whiskey barely touches his lips before it tumbles down his throat. He is agitated at everyone in the room, the conversation sucks, the lighting sucks, the music is good but the sound quality sucks. This party fucking sucks and he does not want to be here right now but somehow his plans are failing him and now he has to make all these _detours _and fight all these distractions:

Lexi is in town and she just reminds him of the past. She also irritates the crap out of him. Living with Stefan is his definition of hell, he is living with an emotional girl – always mooning and moping over Elena, it's _ridiculous_. Lexi is in town but there's another vampire too. Or else he is getting so good at attacking people he simply doesn't remember doing it anymore. The necklace is now in the hands of an emotional teenaged witch and he never could stand Sabrina.

He needs more time to formulate a better plan but he can't concentrate when there are attacks and night. He can't focus if the police chief is banging on his door for help while he is banging her daughter. And he can't fucking do anything without the necklace.

Caroline wraps her arms around him and he shrugs them off, distracted.

She is looking at him and smiling expectantly. " Like my dress?" She murmurs into his ear.

He sees a flash of purple and looks at her with an appraising eye, that, from the look on her face she is undoubtedly interpreting as approval. A half plan works itself out in his head and it's risky but it could work. He thinks of the necklace sitting across the room and looks at the blond girl in front of him.

He takes a chance and smiles despite the fact the gesture is fighting his mood.

"Wanna do me a favor?"

His eyes follow her blond hair as she approaches the necklace.

The whiskey burns the back of his mouth and he raises his glass to the bartender, in need of another.

* * *

She spends the first hour of the party getting ready. There's this warm feeling inside of her that she's been trying to ignore all week. She would say she's been pretty successful at holding it in, but sometimes it leaks out and she finds herself grinning uncontrollably, or skipping to class. Then there are moments in private when it all becomes too much and she just has to squeal and dance like a child, because as much as she hates to admit it…being in love _feels good_.

She's been trying to let herself down easy, she's been trying to prepare herself for the inevitable breakup. She's been trying to act cool and indifferent and (hopefully) alluring towards him but lately whenever he smiles she ends up grinning like a fool. Whenever he touches her she can't help but arch towards him a littler more; she can't help but hold him a little _tighter _to her neck. Love apparently is kind of like morphine because when he bites her now it doesn't hurt. When he bites her now, she just feels sort of happy and giddy and she can't help but hold him closer and closer until the last possible second, until he has to pry her way from him.

A couple nights ago he was drinking her blood and she had been smiling like a love sick fool and sort enjoying his smell and his closeness. Apparently, you _can _overdose on this kind of love because she remembers smiling and sighing and then suddenly it all went black. She remembers coming to in his arms as he shook her awake. She likes to think he looked almost _worried_ and so she thinks nothing of her passing out. It sort of makes her laugh too that he had refused her offer for sex and dragged her out to a steak dinner. He made her eat the entire dish which honestly had been a little painful. Her appetite for food has kind of withered lately, but she is always hungry for him: for his touch, and his kiss, and the nearness of him with his teeth in her skin.

Of course, she is aware that she is slowly melting into a teenaged Juliette cliché. She is still a control freak and she always makes sure she is carrying herself with pride, especially around him. She may be a love-sick fool but she certainly isn't going to _act _like one. Or at least she tries not to, but he's been kind of attentive lately. Actually, he's been the opposite of attentive, he's been distracted and distant, but he has been _around _more, in fact, she can't remember the last day she spent without him. He's near all the time and he's even made an effort with her friends, asking about Bonnie, talking to Elena. If she's being perfectly honest she prefers him all to herself. If she's being perfectly honest he's been different lately, edgy and moody and if she's being brutally honest, she _doesn't trust him_ for a minute. But he's near all the time now, he's with her so much and when he is with her, her thoughts kind of melt and puddle into one big sappy pool and she struggles to control herself.

That's why she suggested they get ready separately. Her brain has been a pile of mush all week and she needs some time to get a grip on herself.

She spends extra time picking out an outfit that she knows he will notice her in. She tries on the red one, the slutty blue one, the classy black one. She throws her clothes in a pile on the floor and spins around with her eyes closed. She opens her eyes and chooses the first dress that catches her eye. It's purple and silky and just short enough. She picks out the black ankle boots and sheer tights with a critical eye and as each layer of clothing touches her skin, she feels little more cohesive, a little more put together and a little more in control.

She spends extra time on her face, carefully accentuating her eyes, her cheeks, and her mouth. A round, wide-eyed face stares back at her. Her cheeks are flushed with an excitement she didn't brush on, and her eyes are bright in a way that has nothing to do with the mascara and liner. She looks like a _doll_ she thinks. He had told her that once too and she wonders what he'll think tonight.

Her phone lights up and his name flashes across the screen, coinciding with the flash of heat she felt through her body. She opens the text and the heat coils low in her belly.

"Hurry up, I'm already here. Are you picking up Bonnie?"

She frowns at the latter half of the message, ignoring the flutter of her heart that is currently analyzing the possible conations of "hurry up".

It takes her five minutes to send a message back. She writes, "Are you excited" and erases it. She writes "Can't wait to see you" and deletes the entire message. She ends up writing a simple "No I'm not. Is it fun? See you soon". She adds an " xoxo" and sends it before she can change her mind.

She waits around to see if he'll reply, fiddling with her hair and pursing her lips at her reflection. Her phone remains silent so she grabs her bag and heads out the door. She's _happy_ she thinks. This might be completely wrong and unnatural but she is happy…_H_e makes her happy and shouldn't that be enough?

She spots him sitting at the bar and waits a breath before she walks toward him.

* * *

By the time Caroline reaches him empty handed he is so angry he can't see straight.

He feels his hand hit the bar top, he sees Caroline mouthing some words to him and he feels his mouth say something back but there's a ringing in his ears and he just needs to get the fuck out of the party.

Caroline's face is _crumbling_ as he turns away but all he can focus on is the door.

Outside the air is cool and it hits his face with enough force to bring him back down. In front of him a couple is making out in almost the same spot he and Caroline fucked the week before. His eyes are on the couple but his head is whirling with half finished thoughts and pieces of a plan. He _needs_ to figure out who the other vampire is, he needs to get rid of Lexi, he needs to deal with the chief, and he needs to get _back on track_: he needs the necklace or he needs a way to realize his plan without it.

Sometimes when he's really focused, he comes up with these impulsive, brilliant ideas and he acts without having to think it through.

His teeth sink into the boy's neck faster than he can comprehend. He is aware of the blood in his mouth and for a second he remembers how different Caroline's tastes but then he is smiling and the boy is crumpling to the ground and before him is a shaking mess of girl.

He looks her in the eyes and he tells her his new plan.

* * *

_Okay_, _this is an unusual chapter for two reasons: _

_1) Because I never meant it to be a chapter. I had already written another one with a slightly more dramatic ending but I needed a beginning to tie it to the story and then the beginning sort of evolved into something much longer. That said the next chapter is already written and should be up soon once I tweak it a bit to fit with this chapter ( I'm sensing a cycle haha). _

_2) I have never written more than 7 chapters in a story before so I'm really happy I'm sticking with this one, even if the show isn't sticking with this pair. =)_

_Sorry if not much has happened in the story thus far. I'm trying to tie it to the events in the show a little more, so it will be following the show more in the next chapters. Just, you know with a little more Caroline/Damon action then you would get on screen =)_

_And I have two requests: _

_1) Write some Daroline stories please, I feel like they have more of a story to tell and it would be great to read it !!!!_

2) Review, review, review. It's what keeps this story alive and it keeps me wanting to write more !!!!!

XoXo


	9. Stupid Shallow Useless Whatever

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Nine - Stupid Shallow Useless Whatever

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

* * *

"_Stupid" "Shallow" "Useless" _

And like some unpleasant catalyst the daydream is shattered, and she is left reeling as he walks away without looking back. Always so socially aware, her first reaction should have been to make sure no one heard his cruel refusal of her affections. Always so self aware, her first reaction should have been a cool rebuttal and a toss of her sleek hair. Always so poised, her first reaction should have been to take it with a smile, face unbreakable, head held high. Instead she crumbles. Instead she could care less if anyone is witnessing her humiliation. Instead she slumps on top of the bar and keeps snapping her fingers until she's downed enough gin and tonics to forget her own name. She doesn't understand where it came from. Why he said it there and then and in so few words. But somehow it confirms and multiplies all her fears and she just wants to forget about it. All of it.

She wants to forget everything: his face, his eyes, his lips turned downward as he spat out his goodbyes with enough acid to corrode stone. She needs to forget him or else he will haunt her forever.

And he does. His words circle her head like a black crown; shaming her. It's 5am and she is bent over the toilet at puking her heart out while Matt holds her hair and tries to catch her tears at the same time. Her stomach is empty, her eyes are glazed and Matt is mumbling something about Tylenol and water but all she hears is _stupid_, all she hears is _shallow_; all she feels is _useless_. And she knows that feeling won't go away.

Stupid she can take, hell she can take stupid and raise it the A she got in English last semester. She can take stupid and rationalize it with the steady diet of C's she's been receiving this term. Shallow, well she maybe she deserved that one but so what? She's thought about it before and everybody is shallow: that ugly girl with the frizzy hair still wants her prince charming. That boy who tries too hard to look like he's not trying _clearly_ has a passion for all things in a D cup. That irritating boy who quotes Niche like it's the bible, he still went to the prom and drank the punch. They all want love, they all look in the mirror: they all try, _shallow, shallow, shallow._ Why should she be any different? She figures her whole blond hair cheerleader getup it's the most honest version of shallow there is.

And yet his judgment was cuts deeper than it should. She thinks the whole town could gang up on her and she wouldn't feel this bad.

She can't muster up the energy to take useless. She feels useless, she is useless and her heart feels useless because it has nothing to love anymore. She spent three months loving him. She spent three months thinking only of him and what she can do to make him look at her with even a fraction of the emotion she feels when she looks at him. And she has failed miserably. Here, now, when as she is pushing Matt away and leaning once more over the toilet she knows she has failed. She is a failure.

She's never felt more useless and alone in her life.

Somehow, she convinces Matt that she is fine, a little drunk, but fine. And he leaves with a hug, a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on her bedside table. The tears come the moment she hears to door slam and she is crying so hard that her chest aches from sobbing, her eyes sting from all those useless tears and her jaw throbs and her throat burns and she just hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts. She just hurts so fucking much. She's never been dumped before but somehow she knows that even the hardest breakup shouldn't hurt this bad.

She's never felt more useless and alone in her life.

And she can't stand it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her self preservation instinct kicks in. She doesn't want her mom to come in and see her like this. She doesn't want to face a concerned Elena and Bonnie in the morning. She doesn't want to reassure Matt, as sweet as he is. She can't, she can't do it.

They don't understand.

They would offer candy and kind words and hugs and movies and maybe even the opportunity to skip school and lounge all day. They would tell her she is beautiful, they would tell her that she can do soooo much better; that she is way better off without him. They would brush her hair and whisper that he was a jerk, that he doesn't know what he is missing, that he is a selfish, violent asshole who only loves his own reflection. And she would have to smile, and she would have to laugh through her tears and wipe away their worries with a tissue and talk of new hotter boys and say something stupid like "Caroline's back on the market, better watch out" just to assuage them from looking any deeper.

But she can't do it. She's never been great at lying, she's downright_ useless_ at it actually and somehow she knows that she wouldn't be able to hold the façade very long at all.

He is cruel and violet. He is manipulative and controlling. He's reckless and impulsive and quick to anger. He's hurt her more in three months than she thought possible; he's hurt her more in three minutes with three words that she has even been hurt in her entire life. And somehow, for some reason, probably because she is stupid and shallow and useless she still loves him. She still wants to brush the hair off his face while he mocks "Twilight". She still wants to scratch her nails down his back as he bites her neck and touches her again and again. She just wants him to come into the room now and say something; anything, nothing; everything. He won't apologize and she's certain that she would end up apologizing for him because she just wants him back. She wants to go back to walking on eggshells, to waking up to a bloody pillow and a sore neck, she wants to go back to him scaring her and yelling at her because at least he was with her and at least he was feeling something for her, even if it's anger.

She is pathetic, she is no better than a battered woman justifying an abusive husband. They would all see it that way and nothing she could ever say would make them think any different. She doubts she can justify it to herself, but she remembers his laugh as he poked fun at Edward. She remembers the mischievous look in his eyes as they went around the founder's ball stealing purses and mementos and hiding them just for the hell of it. She remembers that impish grin of his as they jumped out of the plane together; she remembers the feel of his hand on hers as he said, "one, two, three, go!" And she remembers the blackness in his eyes right before his teeth pierced her skin, she remembers his fingers on her thighs and his mouth on her breast and his kisses on her lips and the way he would soften the blow of his teeth by kissing the area afterward and playfully nipping at her lips.

He is cruel and violent and he's turned her into this lifeless slave girl but she just wants her dungeon boy back. She just wants his lips on hers, wants his hips on hers and his teeth on her skin. He needed blood and she willingly gave it to him, always. And that gave her some sort of purpose.

Now she is just useless and alone. And tomorrow brings promises of a hangover and dried tears and the nauseating prospect of facing everyone who said I told you so.

She can't do it. Maybe she is a coward, maybe she _is_ this useless little girl, but she can't handle the thought of facing anyone, she can't handle the thought of waking up tomorrow to a headache a clean pillow and an empty bed.

The alcohol is clearly still in her system as she staggers out of bed, blindly groping the floor for her shoes and stumbling down the stairs. She fishes out the spare keys from above the stove and she knows she is too drunk to drive but she's sort of got a death wish at this point and all she can wrap her mind around is the fact that she needs to get out of here.

Once she's in the car and out of her driveway she knows it's a mistake, the stop signs are blurring past her and the lights are swimming into each other like big green red and yellow fireworks. "Caroline" she tells herself. "Turn around and go home. Turn the fuck around and go home" She's never felt more useless and alone in her life because she is not turning around and she answers herself by pressing harder on the gas.

It helps to focus on the outside world as it blurs by her, it helps to focus on keeping her eyes open and not drifting off into that happy place that seems so welcoming right now. It helps to focus on anything but him.

Still somewhere along the way the green light looked sort of blue to her and she imagined it framed by thick lashes and dark brows and she chokes back a sob as that feeling enters her chest and clenches her heart with a painful iron grip.

And then too late she sees the road in front of her. Ten seconds of dwelling on his gaze and she can't stop in time. She feels more than sees her car hit the figure on the road. She doesn't see the body soar through the air because suddenly it's all caught up with her and she is spinning out of control. There is an awful crunching sound and a screech and then her head hits the steering wheel and her eyes shut and there's all this movement and falling and spinning that she can't quite see it but she can feel it and she can hear it.

The movement stops and the car lurches one last painful time. She's conscious enough to feel that familiar warm liquid drip down her face. Everything hurts and breathing is becoming a struggle. With effort she pries her eyes open and it takes a moment to orient herself. Through the broken window she sees the world is upside down and this scares her. Her hands try and fumble for the belt but she can't really figure out where she is where everything else is in relation to her. Outside she hears a crack and she stops struggling long enough to look outside.

The figure on the road is moving. Through her wide eyes she watches it twitch and move spastically. At first she feels a wave of guilt and a wave of something she can't even bring herself to define. She's killed someone. She's been so caught up with her stupid useless love life that she has cost someone their life. She's fucking killed somebody. She is a killer.

And then faster than she can realize what's happening the guilt turns to horror. Her eyes grow wide, her stomach plummets with a sickening sensation and she fights to keep from screaming.

Arms pop back into place, legs back into sockets; the figure sits up and cracks his back into place; she can hear each vertebra move into place with a growing sense of unease. He adjusts his neck and then he stands up tall and she can't see his head any more. Then his shoulders disappear out of her view and she realizes that he is coming towards her.

Her hands are fighting with the seat belt and she has given up crying because she is screaming and struggling and moving and it's useless because she is stuck and those dark legs keep coming closer and closer.

There is a screeching noise and suddenly the door isn't where it was a minute ago. Suddenly she is in the painful grip of this stranger who is squeezing her so tight she can't breathe enough to scream.

The words float to her lips a moment before it all becomes too much.

"Help me Damon"

And then it all goes black.

* * *

_Yup so kind of merged the Elena storyline into a Caroline one. Going to try and fuse more of what's happening in the show into this story- however from this point on it will be pretty AU. _

Reviews would be amazing, they really keep me going! So even if it's just a line, or if it's some constructive criticism ...I'll take it happily.

XoXoX


	10. Alone in the Dark

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Ten- Alone in the Dark

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

* * *

The first thing she becomes aware of is the smell. A disgusting, rotting, ghastly stench. Even in the smelliest of situations it's never pained her to breath. It does now. The second thing she becomes aware of is the fact that she cannot see a fucking thing, like absolutely nothing. She opens and closes her eyes and if it weren't for the sensation of her eyes drying out, she wouldn't notice the difference. It strikes her as odd that she didn't notice it first; it also strikes her as odd that she isn't panicking. But maybe all the time spent with Damon has given her some sort of tolerance for danger. Also, when the only thing she can see is black and blacker, she sort of loses her fear and gives in.

With nothing to guide her, no lights, no noises, she loses sense of time. Only her hunger alerts her, the spaces in between the small meals placed in front of her. They taste awful but she only picks at them anyways. She hasn't really been hungry in a long time, at least not for food – Damon awoke other hungers in her of course. She's never wanted to be_ wanted_ to badly, she's never been more curious about anyone else in her life. He may consider her shallow, self absorbed but the truth is, since she met him she's thought of herself less and less; he takes up her every thought.

Her captor is the newscaster Logan. She recognizes his voice instantly, having heard it on the local news for last five years. He's muttering something about plans, and rings and sunlight. He definitely mentions her mother but she can't quite focus on his actual words because she is busy remembering that Damon had mentioned killing him. Great. Another self absorbed vampire. She doesn't bother feeling scared.

She just feels alone.

It hurts her heart and she hates it.

Logan leaves with some obscure threat she didn't quite catch.

Alone in the dark she thinks of nothing but death. Ever since Damon entered her life, her thoughts have grown increasingly morbid. She hopes she doesn't die here, as ridiculous as it sounds, if anyone is going to kill her it has to be Damon – preferably during sex- as long as he's close, she doesn't care how. Pathetic. Last year's Caroline would have shoved this pathetic little bitch into a locker; head over heels in love with a conceited asshole? Contemplating her own death? She tries to regret the past months, but she's too far gone to care.

It`s dark and cold and smells like crap.

Every cell in her body is screaming for Damon.

He doesn`t come.

She just feels alone.

* * *

It's a day and a half before he notices she's missing. He thinks, had she been more_ important_ to him, he would have noticed sooner. He thinks, had she been Katherine, had she been Emily, had she been a vampire; he might have noticed sooner. She wasn't that important. There was blood in the house and booze left in the bottle and it kept him busy for a day. Still, he's kind of kicking himself for not noticing. He's trained himself to be aware at all times. He's getting _soft_; this town is getting to him. And he should have noticed sooner.

It takes him another day and a half before he bothers to do anything about it. And even then it is only because her mother, the Sheriff shows up at his door in tears, clutching Caroline's purse to her chest. "They found her car on the highway; it's in bad really bad shape".

He notices the tears in her eyes. There's a bloodstain on the fabric of her purse.

"Is Caroline okay?"

He asks the question when he already knows the answer. She shaking and spouting off words about empty cars, and blood and missing without a trace. He's five steps ahead. There are wheels turning and clicking and he smiles impatiently, irritated with her slow pace and panicked words. He knew there was another vampire in town. Mystic falls has always been a mecca for ones such as himself. If he were to really consider it he would blame this on Katherine, she was a magnet, drawing the turned and the wanting to be turned to her. Even those that didn't realise what they wanted.

He is her "Katherine" he supposes, although he isn`t sure if he wants to be. Still, five seconds later he is making promises to the sheriff and running to his car. He needs to find her.

* * *

Damon crashes into the room, and she_ feels_ him more than sees and hears him. Apparently Logan does too, because he barrels into the room a second later. A snarl fills the air and she forgets to breath.

It's too dark to see the fight but she can hear it. The brutal sound of cartilage crunching, bones snapping, skin breaking – and the fact that she is all but blind makes her imagination run wild.

Oddly enough, it's only when the noises stop, and the faint flicker of fire lights up her vision that she begins to seriously panic.

Orange light highlights a basement that is more messy than menacing. A pile of garbage is the source of the smell. For some reason her vision is blurring, but she can make out the shape of an arm in the steadily growing fire.

Damon sets about untying her. Those last cruel words of his seem eons ago, and meaningless somehow. He is here, she is _saved_.

It's only when he tells her to stop fucking moving that she realizes she is shaking uncontrollably. It's only when her hands are free and she is swiping madly at her eyes that she realizes she is bawling harder than she ever has her entire life.

He is here and he has saved her. But that feeling of aloneness hasn`t burned with Logan`s corpse. She cries a little harder.

She knows she must look a snotty, dirty _mess_. Her clothes are ripped, her hair is greasy and matted and she hasn't really eaten in days. All those hours spent prepping for him so he could see her in the right way, from the right angle, in the most beautiful light, with the most beautiful dress and now he's seeing her at her lowest low and she couldn't care less. All she knows is that his arms are around her, guiding her, lifting her, breathing new life into her. She's never felt more at home.

He doesn't offer comforting words. He doesn't stroke her hair or tell her it will all be okay. He mutters a quick, "he's dead. Let's go" before picking her up and setting her down in his car. He doesn't say anything after that, as silent as the days he used to pick her up from school, angry and wanting a snack.

But he lets her sit in his lap the entire ride home. She clings to him as hard as she possibly can.

Halfway home, when the tremors have left her, when her breathing has evened out to the occasional shaky gasp she realizes that this may have been her fantasy all along: This is her "twilight" moment after all, her damsel in distress moment, and now her prince has come to take her home to his castle. Her prince is angrier and colder in real life, and she never envisioned herself this dirty pathetic mess. But real life has never been the way she dreamed it. She takes what she can get.

She looks up at him from her position in his lap; the hard line of his jaw, the soft curve of his mouth, the fierce look in his eyes that she_ never_ will be able to understand. When she starts to cry again, it's no longer from shock.

A block away from her house she tells him to pull over.

He looks irritated, lifting her off his lap and into the passenger seat.

"Your mother is waiting for you" He nods in the direction of her house. "she`s worried sick"

She nods, staring straight ahead, not really seeing anything.

There have been so many emotions filtering through her these past few days. She feels clogged up: with relief, with anger, with adoration and with love. Uncertainly, she meets his impassive stare and chokes up for the third time. She didn't realize that someone as small and shallow as her could feel _so much_ for one person. And not even in her darkest dreams could she have imagined that, that someone could feel _so little_ in return.

"I'm never going to be her, whoever you're chasing after" Unable to really look away from him, she closes her eyes. "You probably shouldn't come over anymore."

Something unrecognizable flits across his face and she tries to trace it to no avail. Finally he sighs.

"Katherine. And you're never going to come close to being her"

Every bone in her body is aching to crawl back to him, and play out the damsel in distress fantasy over and over again. Part of her would be happy living the lie for as long her he would have her. She wonders how big of a part that is.

"I think I should walk the rest of the way."

He shrugs, indifferent. "Suit yourself"

She smiles sadly. "It'll help save your bad-boy rep".

He turns away and starts the ignition, ready to move on to more exciting things.

When she gets out of the car her heart _breaks_.

* * *

what's this ? an update? woah...only you know, like , a couple months late.

I appologize for the delay. School got in the way, and I needed to figure out where exactly I wanted to take this and how I was going to tie it into the show is it is now. Next chapter ( hopefully up soon) will tie into the recent episodes.

If you can forgive my lateness enough to review, that would make my day =)

Merci


	11. Breaking Routine

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Eleven- Breaking Routine

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Matt, Damon/others......

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

* * *

The day he drops her off is the darkest day of her life. But she steels herself the next morning, she won't let any of her days get darker than that day, that day spent muddy and tired, sobbing into her pillow and pretending that she is fine, that she is unharmed. Her mother had been exceptionally attentive; Band-Aids and salves for her cuts and bruises, murmurings of "my little girl" and "I'm so glad you're safe Caroline". She doesn't have to try very hard to feign exhaustion, and when she goes to bed she pulls the sheet over her head, just in case her mom comes in, to hide those pitiful tear tracks.

She doesn't let herself grieve. She throws herself back into school and cheerleading harder than necessary. It's more work than she remembers, but if a little extra effort is all it takes to cast off the worried stares, the concerned sentiments and those bitchy little queries about Damon, well, then it's worth it to her. Of course Elena worries, Bonnie too, but a little girl talk over martini's and chocolate mousse can do wonders. Matt worries too, he greets her with a giant hug each day at school, and maybe she is imagining it, but she finds she doesn't have to pretend as much around him. There was a morning a few weeks ago, when he gave her a hug in the hallway, and the light was hitting his face just so...and she just _noticed _him, like really, really noticed him. She grabbed his hand that day, and as she led him to class, she wondered if this was something like healing.

Then there are those days where she is too exhausted to move, and all she wants is for him to appear in her room and make her _forget_ like he used to. She wants to say those days happen less and less, but if she's being honest it's still 50/50, and if she's being really honest, she doesn't really_ want_ to stop thinking about him, his memory drives her harder the morning after.

The effort pays off one day; at the football match in the rain, she's cheering and smiling like she is supposed to and then Matt scores touchdown and she's cheering and smiling for real. He kisses her after the game, his hands on her arms, the rain dripping down his face and onto hers, and for a moment, she is as free and happy as she could ever imagine being.

The feeling is fleeting; Damon _haunts_ her dreams and the next day, she has to drag herself out of bed, certain that things will be different in a bad way, certain that Matt will have realised she is damaged goods and is fleeing down the highway, getting as far away as he can. He's waiting for her at the front gate though, and when he kisses her good morning, and grabs her hand, she holds on tightly, swinging their arms down the street. It becomes routine, and she thinks she likes it; it's nice, the way he sort of cocoons all her broken pieces- he's not putting her back together yet, but he's keeping her from falling further apart.

Matt keeps coming over. They look good together; blonde and pretty and smiling. He's kind to her and safe; comforting. By the end of the year they will be prom king and queen, she knows it. She knows that last year she would have be ecstatic to be in this position, ten pounds lighter, a loving, hot boyfriend and a chance at complete high school dominance. Still, Damon permeates her thoughts more than she cares to admit. Her mother had her on safety lockdown for a month and in the hours that Matt was actually studying at home and not "studying" in her bedroom, she was left with much too much time to herself. Too much time alone makes her overly introspective, and Damon has left a lasting impression on her thoughts.

She's happy she thinks. But then he say's "I love you" one night and the whole world crumbles.

She wants to love this so badly. She _wants _to love him so badly because this would all be so, so perfect. Not the fake, cold kind of perfect either. But the real honest to goodness perfection based on compatibility and real feelings. He's a good guy, down to earth. She thinks he might be the most caring individual she knows, considering the hardship he's been through with his mother and his sister. He's caring to a fault she thinks, and she can't help but wonder if she is just one more lost cause that he is trying to repair. She's told him that too, because this is one of those honest, open relationships. Maybe he was being nice when he told her he loved her, but she's trying to believe this will work and her smile was honest when she said "I love you too".

Elena disappears from her social circle. At first she worries that this is because of Matt, after all, dating someone's ex is always a big deal. But then she realises that it's nothing to do with her, Elena is always with the Salvatore's, she mentions something about helping them with their family history but Caroline doesn't really pay attention; she doesn't _want_ to know. She tries not to get jealous when Elena mentions his name in passing; she tries not to feel anything. But the very whisper of his name leaves her reeling.

She likes that she can joke around with Matt, she likes that she feels comfortable pigging out on chips and chocolate in front of him. He doesn't make her _scream_ like Damon used to, but he's gentle and fun; tickling her sides while he kisses her hard on the mouth. Still she can't help but wonder if he makes things too safe for her, if this thing between them is all too easy - it sounds crazy even to her, but it keeps her up late into the night, her bones itching for _something_, as he snores softly beside her.

She starts to tune the world out; the bright pink of the prom dress store become a little more faded the longer she remains here. And though she hates to admit it, the routine feels more like a cage with every passing day.

* * *

It's the quiet of the town that gets to him, and the memories. There used to be _so much_ happening in Mystic Falls, and the memory of the excitement drives him wild with pent up frustration. With no one to take it out on, he begins to act out.

He drives drunk one night, and crashes Stefan's car into a tree. His brother threatens to throw him out more than once that night. He doesn't really remember what it is he said, or just how he convinced Stefan to let him stay but as he spends the next week fixing the car he knows he needs to get the fuck out of this town, and soon.

He came here with a purpose. Katherine is in the tomb and she needs to get out, he _needs_ her to be out. All the time that is wasting away is getting to him in the worst possible way, Elena's face reminds him every day of the face that haunts him at night. This small town atmosphere is killing him, and his brother is smothering all his means of entertainment. He's used to getting his way, he's used to fast cars, money, easy women and most of all, he is used to his actions working out exactly according to plan. Which is why the complications in opening the tomb have caused him much frustration and grief, he simply doesn't _do _this waiting and complaining.

He visits the grave increasingly, her picture in his hand, his eyes transfixed on the stone wall that he wants to get open so badly. For all his callousness and impulsivity, for all his manipulative schemes he plots just for the hell of it, for all the time he spends doing things only for himself, only to as a means to meet his own ends – this is different: He is _obsessed_. He is obsessed and growing impatient, he can't keep acting out, and he can't keep fucking waiting.

And then she shows up and changes everything.

Ana. The little girl from way back when. Pearle's daughter, too young to be of interest, too old not to be feared.

Her appearance excites him, although he refuses to let on. She wants in too, and although he despises working in teams he knows she wants in just as badly as he does. It is difficult not to get excited, and reckless. The time and precautions he that is always so diligent about fall to the wayside- he is tired of waiting-he is desperate. Kidnapping isn't his style, but when Ana suggests taking the young witch Bonnie he feels a surge of adrenaline and consents to her hap-hazard plan. He feels more alive than he has felt for long, long time.

Everyone is at the tomb, there's a party in the background with lots of eager victims and he doesn't give a fuck. His whole body is buzzing with anticipation, the boredom and the restlessness of the past decades erased at the promise of the chaos and excitement Katherine is bound to bring. There is a sense of pre-satisfaction dripping from his pores, like he's in the middle of writing a test that he knows he's already aced.

His _eagerness_ clouds his vision; he enters the tomb and doesn't look back.

* * *

Hello,

so this is a little short. it was part of a much larger chapter, but that would have made this the last chapter and I wasn't ready for that, so I extended this a little to really plant the roots for the next, and final installement.

Please review, pretty pretty please.

-merci


	12. Tuning Out The Static

**Story:** Control

**Chapter**: Twelve- Tuning Out The Static

**Pairing: **Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Matt, Damon/others......

**Summary:** "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.

* * *

That cold tomb, full of lifeless bodies, still alive and just barely: It was empty to him. She wasn't there. Katherine was gone. He was alone.

He'd been searching for her for so fucking long. Agonizing over how to get in, obsessing over spells and witches and blood and fire. He doesn't want to think about it. But he's spent lifetimes waiting for her, and it's all been for nothing. He doesn't want to fucking think about it, but it's hard to change a mindset that has been focused on one thing for lifetimes.

He's not in love with her. Stefan doesn't get it. Elena doesn't get it. He isn't sure he gets it either. But he had _needed_ her. He had needed her out and alive and ready to wreak havoc again. Their time together, so long ago. He remembers that she made him feel alive. It has nothing to do with love, and maybe everything to do with being human, although he refuses to miss that.

The sheer possibility that she had been out and about all this time, it never even occurred to him, and still he struggles to accept it. He refuses to accept it, and yet the cold hard truth is in his face and it's hard to look away.

Decades of agonizing over this..._bitch_. He's been rendered slightly purposeless, it's making him reckless, it's making him angry, it's making it bitter; it's driving him to drink. He says he could care less. He's been saying that a lot lately.

When you've been obsessing over something for so long, letting go is almost impossible. And once you do, the world sort of falls away too. Things seem _muted_, mundane; as if the volume has been turned down almost all the way. Everything is but a whisper of itself. Nothing is scary, nothing is exciting, and nothing is worth his time. Stefan's been pestering him, good cop bad cop style, asking him if he is okay, and then wondering when he is going to leave. The thing is though, with the world on silent, he doesn't really bother to listen to his brother, or anyone for that matter. Not even his thoughts are loud enough to register, which is a good thing because he refuses to think of her again. Callous bitch, he'll never be as _cold_ as her. But he wants to be.

He's torn between everything and nothing. Part of him wants to hunt her down and kill her. Part of him wants to hunt her down and kiss her. Another part, a part that grows with each day doesn't care enough anymore. All those years of waiting and wanting and now...nothing. He lives in a muted, faded world where he can't bring himself to care enough to be bored.

It strikes him now that he has done..._everything_. He has lived a million different lives; careless, reckless, and they have always been in her name. He has done that school, that university, that job, those girls, those parties, those games, those adventures, those mountains, those fights; those lies. He has been there, done that, and _fucked_ that. She was supposed to make things fun again. He doesn't want another thousand lives alone. He was born restless, and now he is listless, spent and unable to care. Fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck it.

He spends his days and nights with a bottle. A fifth of vodka, a splash of rum and a pint of blood, courtesy of some unfortunate wanderer: drink, refill and repeat. He's not wasting his life; he's lived more than everyone in this fucking town put together.

He's just turning down the volume even further; he's just blurring his sight enough so he doesn't have to look at this pathetic place any longer. There's a burning underneath his skin, a yearning in his bones, but he just doesn't feel like fucking moving around anymore. Still this stasis is painful.

There have been many girls lately. An hour or two in his bed, sometimes he lets them live, most times he doesn't. Stefan has been covering his tracks; he's getting careless, reckless; he can't be bothered to care.

He's at a hole-in the wall dive bar in the edge of town, when he spies an unlikely face.

Caroline.

She doesn't see him. She's focused on her own drink, staring out the window, golden hair falling down her back, a little longer than he remembers it being. He had all but forgotten about her. Those few months spent toying with her seem like eons ago. Those memories are but whispers of events that unravel foggy and disjointed in his head, taking her blood, her sex, saving her; using her completely and utterly.

He smiles bitterly. She had been a means to an end, a way to get to the witch; a way to get to Katherine. She had been his willing little toy, a doll. He remembers breaking her; it's only now that he realizes she probably had loved him too. _How sad_.

Almost four months she had been utterly devoted to him. It strikes a painful chord in him, draws parallels that he does not want to see.

He is her _"Katherine_", or he used to be a least. He wonders if the world is _numb _to her as well, he wonders if everything is muted.

The drink in his hand is in his mouth before he can blink and he makes his way over to her, a morbid curiosity in every step and the ever present dull throb in his ears.

* * *

She's been in her head way too much lately. It really doesn't mesh with the lifestyle she has carved out for herself, but somehow, she just can't stop thinking. But god she wants to, hence the drinks, hence the hiding out in dark places. She wants to _forget_ herself here, and then wake up to do it again.

That spontaneous girl from last year is but a shell that sometimes lets out spurts of her old self but mostly acts as a pretty facade: she looks the same, she talks the same, but she's not. She kind of wants to say it's because she's all grown up now. She also kind of wants to blame it on him, Damon that is, he definitely had a role in facilitating her change. She's not really sure what has changed or why and how, but she's different now or maybe the whole world is and she's still the same. Whatever it is, her thoughts have become the only thing loud enough to hear, real life has faded to a dull hum in the background.

He's been on her mind lately. Sometimes she'll try to push him out, other times she'll close her eyes and remember the way he used to _excite_ every fibre in her being. He made her feel _alive_. The girl she had been when she was with him was pathetic; it's easy to recognize that now. Still, life has been a little less exciting since she stopped swapping spit and other bodily fluids with the darker Salvatore.

Everything is quieter now. Dull.

She's spotted him around town of course, most of the time she runs; it's been a while but she doesn't know if she trusts herself with him just yet. She's bored and he's always exciting; it would be _so easy_ to slip and get caught up in him again. Lately though, she's stopped hiding when she sees him, he's drinking more- a lot more – something must have happened. She wants to feel vindicated but she doesn't. He's still a hole that she wants to fill. But she's changed, or so she thinks. She might be able to handle him this time; she might be able to handle herself.

She broke up with Matt last week. She'll miss his smile, and his hugs and his morning cups of coffee, even his sugar sweet kisses. His love is the lasting kind, the sweet amiable kind that you want because it's kind you can grow old with, safe; warm and lasting. Maybe last year it would have worked. Or maybe not, after all, she never really was the commitment type, never really wanted it until Damon came along. But she thinks that last year, she would have liked to at least try with Matt. That's got to be worth something.

Now she just can't seem to find her footing. She feels standoffish and alone every moment of every day. This town just seems faded and quiet. Her world is muted and grey and she wants to get out of here more than ever.

Suddenly he is sitting beside her.

There's a palpable shift in the air. He's different; a little quieter, even his posture seems muted. But it's exciting, and for the first time in a long time, she feels alive.

This time he speaks first.

"Hey"

Although she doesn't hesitate to reply, her stomach is in knots.

"Hi"

It takes her a moment longer to realise that it's not fear that is causing the butterflies, but excitement. His hand is in the middle of the table and she meets him halfway, latching on to it with her own. She knows where this is going, and for once, she feels ready.

They drink; they are both season players and he pays for every shot. They talk, but not that much needs to be said. They have sex. In his car, the hard seat pressing into her , her nails in his back, his teeth in her neck. They make it back to her place, and she forgets she is drunk because he is intoxicating and _thrilling_. She remembers how much she enjoys his arms around her, while he remembers her skin and the taste of it all.

Maybe he is using her again. He needs this... this little shred of _control_, this superiority; it gives him a little life; it helps turn the volume up again. Maybe she's playing the victim again. She needs this...this little spark of _excitement_, while in the safety of his arms...she needs him. And it's different now, because she knows the need is mutual. They're both selfish creatures at heart, pleasing each other to satisfy themselves.

* * *

There's a bloodstain on her pillowcase and she rubs at it lazily with one hand, her other hand still holding tightly onto his. He's looking at her now and it feels as if he is looking at her for the first time as a person, and not as a means to his end. It's nice.

It's not the first time he's offered to turn her, but it's the first time she's ever really considered accepting.

"Does it hurt?"

He shrugs, a sadistic edge to his sugesstive grin. "Of course"

It appeals to her on so many levels. None of which she would _ever_ disclose to him, but the promise of eternal youth- her looks preserved, her intelligence and wit never to dull and fade- is alluring, although not as much as the possibility of lifetime after lifetime with him.

In her heart she has already accepted, but she stalls, just because she can. There's an equality between them now that didn't exist before. It's not completely equal, she knows he'll always have the upper hand, but she's not scared to stand up for herself, and so far it seems he's enjoying it.

"I should probably wait till I graduate"

He smirks and leans over to kiss her breast, nipping not so gently at her skin. She refuses to wince, and that alone makes her smile.

"You can do that anytime. You can graduate a thousand times over later on"

She pushes him off and frowns up at him.

"Where are we going to go?"

"I'm getting the fuck out of this town. What you do is up to you. One time offer, yes or no?"

For a minute she falters; she thinks of Elena, her mother, Bonnie, school, even Matt. But then her head is flooded with fantasies of houses in California, sex on the beach in Hawaii, hunting for campers in the Rockies and all the time in the world.

She grins.

"Bite me"

And he does.

* * *

Fin.

* * *

Wow, I can't belive I finished this!!!! It took me a long time to figure out just how to get them together in the end and make it the least bit plausible - because really, Damon going for the girl is hard to imagine, let alone make believable.

Anyways thanks SO SO SO SO much for sticking with this and reviewing, I've gotten such a great response for this story, and that makes me happy considering they aren't exactly a popular pairing.

One last review from all of you would make my life, and you know, help inspire me to write more stories =)

Thanks Again, seriously!!!

-Merci


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